


Evolutionistically Yours

by violetbaudelaire



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autumn, Baking, Dancing, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Idiots in Love, Love Potion/Spell, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Twelfth Night - Freeform, anne thinks gilbert is under a love spell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-06 05:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18844912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetbaudelaire/pseuds/violetbaudelaire
Summary: (It all started out rather innocently, as these things usually do, with a few pretty words on a slip of pink paper, clutched in the eager fingers of one Ruby Gillis.)Or the one where Anne convinces herself that Gilbert is under a love spell.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I’m new to writing fanfiction, and I was a little worried to upload this but I love my otp and just want to make more content for them. *heart eyes* 
> 
> I’ll be uploading the story in parts while I finish it up :) I hope you like it, and of course constructive criticism is more than welcome!  
> Thanks for reading!

It all started out rather innocently, as these things usually do, with a few pretty words on a slip of pink paper, clutched in the eager fingers of one Ruby Gillis. 

It was the night of her 16th birthday, and all of Avonlea had gathered to help celebrate. The afternoon had been spent with music and games and fluffy lemon sponge cake, strawberry cordial and picnicking on the lawn, all of which seemed to Anne to be the perfect ode to the long, lovely summer that was quickly coming to an end.

Anne props her head on her hand, watching the couples strolling the property as the day faded to night, the children playing in the last hazy bits of orange glow dripping through the dappled leaves. The rest of the girls sit in a tight cluster beside her, cake forgotten in favor of whispering to each other out of earshot of the group of boys not too far off.

“Really, now, it’s high time, don’t you think?” Ruby says with a sniff, plucking at the pink lace of her dress. It was very expensive, as she had told them earlier, and perfectly pressed and starched, with an array of intricate beadwork along the neck. It was the kind of dress they were all supposed to wear, now that each of them had crossed out of girlhood; long and ladylike, with corsets and cinched waists and fluttery sleeves, paired with the artfully twisted knots that ladies — and all of them, now, as well — wore their hair in. 

Diana had settled into her new wardrobe just as Anne expected she would; easily, regally, as if she were slipping into a favorite sweater. The rest of the girls followed quickly behind, and Anne —

Anne found the experience thrilling and wondrous and distinctly uncomfortable. Marilla had lovingly (if not awkwardly) gifted her with the appropriate dresses on her last birthday, bundling up the old cotton school dresses and worn stockings she had fast outgrown. Her new dresses were simple and yet beautiful — green and blue and pale, lovely cream. She had been thrilled to receive them, thrilled to feel the buttery material between her fingers. Wearing them, though, _everyday,_ being forced to bear the newly born awkwardness between the girls and the boys, now that they were officially _women,_ had been a new sort of challenge, one Anne had yet to get used to. She still _felt_ like a girl — still too young and naive for the coquettish flirting and dancing and hand holding that the other girls discussed endlessly. 

She found that womanhood had snuck up on her, before she was quite ready for it. 

“A girl can only be expected to wait for so long. I do have options, you know.” Ruby continues, staring down at the little note card with desire clear on her pretty face. 

Ruby had been waiting most of her life for Gilbert Blythe. It was a fact that each and every one of the girls of Avonlea were intensely aware of, a fact that had set a standard of conduct that kept the girls safely sequestered behind Ruby’s strict boundaries. It was something that Anne, especially, was acutely sensitive to, having stepped over it quite frequently herself, much to Ruby’s annoyance.

Anne had grown used to the slanted looks and whispers and Ruby’s petulant glares, but the truth of the matter was quite simple; Anne had found a kindred spirit in Gilbert. He fit into her life easily, simply, right alongside Cole and Diana and Matthew and Marilla, settling into a space there that she didn’t realize was for him, all along. She _liked_ being with Gilbert, liked wandering the woods and exploring the hidden pathways of Avonlea, tromping through the orchards and the fields, all the way to the coast, talking about every subject that came up. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be friends with a boy without suspicions, and words like _impropriety_ and _courting._ She couldn’t see why there had to be more, how there even _could_ be more, between them — not everything had to be romance and proposals and silly games. Some things existed outside of that world, easy and simple. Some things didn’t have to change.

Still, he had been awfully busy all summer long, traveling with Bash to gather supplies for the addition to the house they had been building since the spring, in preparation for Mary’s baby. Anne preferred it that way, at the moment; the transition between girlhood and wherever she was at now was one she preferred to make privately, as it had come with more than a few mishaps and embarrassments. His absence only refreshed Ruby’s interests, bringing him to the center of gossip for the young members of Avonlea’s gossip society once again.

“Maybe it’ll work, Ruby,” Tillie exclaims, clasping her hands together in rapture at the idea. 

Ruby flushes, eyes glazing over slightly as she stares off, contemplating. Diana shoots Anne a baffled look — one Anne can read quite well. Ruby had been waiting for quite a long time, and Gilbert was completely oblivious. He hardly ever spoke to her, except out of politeness, and even then his eyes always seemed to drift — as if there was something more interesting just past her left shoulder. 

Diana was practical, even in love; Anne was easily lost. Still, she couldn’t see how someone as lovely as Ruby Gillis wouldn’t get what she wanted, eventually.

“Oh, if that were true I’d do it this instant, Tillie.” Ruby replies eagerly. “Just imagine the wedding we’d have!”

Diana rolls her eyes, heaving a sigh. “Now, Ruby, don’t you think you ought to go about this the properway?”

“Can’t you see I have, Diana?” Ruby says hotly. “That’s all I’ve _been_ doing. Gilbert is all too stubborn and focused on his futureto see what’s right in front of his eyes. But I’m not a child anymore, am I?”

“Well you’re acting like one, Ruby. This is all nonsense.”

Anne, usually intrigued by drama and nonsense, was only half listening to the argument, watching the boys laugh to each other as they walked along the fence, easy, without a care in the world, or any idea of the conversation happening across from them. 

Gilbert was with them; trailing a little ways behind, looking off towards the place where the sun was fading beneath the treetops, a pretty package held beneath his arm. She knew he had arrived back in Avonlea a day before, from his letter, though truthfully she had done her best to avoid him, despite her eagerness to talk to him again. She couldn’t help it — she would be sorely disappointed if he, too, had changed in some way she wouldn’t be able to keep up with, in a way that left her far behind. It didn’t help that he looked so very grown up to her, suddenly; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands in his pockets, skin tan from the summer. He had gotten taller, a little leaner, his features sharper, his hair still as wild and dark as it was when they were children. Anne felt the fissure of unease within her widen into a gaping, yawning chasm. 

“Look! I told you he’d come!” Tillie whispers excitedly, nudging Ruby with an elbow. Ruby’s head shoots up like a startled deer, eyes wide and glistening as she set them upon the group of boys approaching.

Ruby had grown, too, more than the other girls, in fact; her golden locks were elegantly coiffed tonight, her cheeks flushed, eyes trailing after Gilbert as he walks with the other boys across the grounds towards them, the girls giggling behind their hands as they watch. Diana huffs, refusing to participate and instead pressing her fingers into the crumbs of cake left on the plate between them. “Well, he’s _finally_ back, now, so here’s your chance. Better hurry, Ruby.” Josie Pye taunts, a smirk on her face. “Unless you’re too scared? It’s just a silly little love spell. It’s a _game._ ” 

Ruby lifts her head at the obvious dare, chin trembling. She looks at each of them, her expression torn. 

“Fine,” She finally cries, drawing herself up. “For the one my soul desires, though we may be far apart, I cast a spell of true affection, to settle in your heart. There.” She tossed the card aside, cheeks flushed.

“Now we’ll see — oh, the flower! I almost forgot!”

Ruby jolts up, gathering up her skirts and rushing to where her mother’s red roses climb up the veranda. The rest of the girls hurry after her like ducklings, leaving Anne and Diana alone. The little, troublesome card was left forgotten on the grass behind them. 

Anne, feeling rather sick, plucks the card up, studying the fine looping cursive within. Just a silly poem, a string of pretty words. But still, knowing that Ruby intended it for Gilbert — that she had said them aloud, sent them into the night, into the _universe,_ to magically make him hers forever — set an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She had a sudden urge to crumple up the card and get rid of it.

“Honestly,” Diana huffs, pulling her from her thoughts. “She can’t be serious! A valentine won’t put Gilbert Blythe under a _love spell._ It’s nonsensical!”

Anne laughs, forcing the thought from her mind. Of course, she was being just as silly as Ruby, falling for the same ruse. Her days of fairytales and romance weren’t _completely_ behind her; hopefully they never would be. 

“Of course you’re right, Diana. Even if it was magical, she forgot the most important part, see?” She lifts the card for Diana’s inspection. “ _‘With lilies, roses, and lilacs blue, I cast my love spell over you.’_ She didn’t finish it. Isn’t that the part that’s meant to do the trick, once you give them a flower?”

“Anne Shirley,” Diana gasps, aghast, laughter bubbling. “You’re going to make some poor boy fall head over heels for you. You better go find a flower, quick, before someone like _Billy Andrews_ gets caught in your snare!”

Anne tosses the card aside, laying a hand against her heart. “But alas, I am doomed to walk this sorrowful earth alone and forlorn.” She pauses, thinking. “Besides, Di, I’m not in _love_ with anyone. You have to be in love for it to work— or, you have to _want_ someone to fall in love with you. And I definitely won’t be giving any boys a _flower_.”

Diana rolls her eyes, standing up and brushing the errant crumbs off her skirts. “Yes, yes. Come on, then. We better go talk Ruby out of this nonsense, before she truly ruins her chances with Gilbert Blythe. I don’t think he would take kindly to someone trying to cast a _spell_ over him. That’s not the kind of things boys like, you know.” She holds out a hand and Anne takes it, rising to her feet.

They stroll wordlessly towards the house, arms looped. The day had been windy; Anne’s hair was coming undone in the breeze, tendrils loose around her face, half of the artful twist Marilla helped her with now flowing loose down her back. The girls had disappeared inside, leaving the porch quiet and empty.

“You go ahead, Diana,” Anne says, stopping by the roses. “It’s such a lovely night. I think I’ll just stay here and watch the stars come out.” _And avoid anymore conversations about the silly spell._

“Oh, alright.” Diana says with a roll of her eyes, heading into the house.

Anne sighs, climbing the steps and leaning against the porch railing. Her eyes trail across the deepening sky, with it’s hazy September moon and it’s glittering court of stars, and then over the lawn, where her eyes catch onto Gilbert’s.

She straightens, _intensely_ aware of what he must be seeing, how very different she must look, without her braids and pinafore and stockings. She’s wearing a nicer dress, for the occasion; a soft, cream thing, that accentuates her narrow waist, with a delicate lace neckline swooping prettily beneath her collarbone. It’s practical, for a party in the summer heat, or else Marilla wouldn’t have allowed it in the first place — but now Anne regrets her choice, exposed and awkward beneath Gilbert’s gaze, as he separates from the group of boys and crosses the lawn, climbing the steps to stands beside her.

“Hello, Anne.” He says, grinning as he gives her a slight bow, eyes lit up with humor. He sets the gift he had been carrying onto a nearby bench.

A blush’s comes to her face, unbidden. She rolls her eyes. “Good evening, Gilbert.”

His eyes go to her dress, briefly, before meeting her eyes again.

“You look —“

“I know.” Her blush intensifies. “I am quite aware. Can we not talk about it?”

He laughs, leaning onto the railing beside her, bumping his shoulder into hers. “Oh, I sincerely apologize. How inconsiderate of me, to bore Anne Shirley with a compliment.” 

“So that’s what you were planning on doing, was it? _Compliment_ me? And here I was, so sure you’d have some clever remark up your sleeve.” She raises a brow.

“That wasn’t exactly the first thought on my mind, no.” He quips back easily, grinning over at her.

She flushes all over again. “You’re completely insufferable, Gilbert Blythe.”

“And you’re so very easy to tease, _Carrots._ ” He tugs on a tendril of her hair. She realizes, suddenly, that they are very close, and Gilbert’s face is all sharp angles in the soft light of the lanterns. 

She pulls away, too fast, tucking the strand behind her ear and taking a few steps back. Gilbert’s eyes follow her, amused.

“I’ll have you know that my hair has darkened at least _two_ shades since you first called me that,” she says haughtily, ignoring the oddly jittery feeling in her limbs. “And doesn’t _quite_ apply to me anymore, thank you very much.”

Gilbert shakes his head, laughing. “Well, I _would_ apologize, Anne, but you’d have to let me walk you home, first.”

“Oh, I do, do I? I’ll have you know—”

“Gilbert!”

Anne breaks off, head twisting towards the door, where Ruby has appeared, beaming at the sight of him, Josie and Tillie and Diana crowded behind her. In her hands, a rose.

Anne, who had previously convinced herself that the love spell had _no power_ at all, is suddenly completely and utterly sure that she has no right to make such judgements. A knot of dread forms in her stomach.

“How _wonderful_ of you, to come all the way from Charlottesville, just for my birthday!” Ruby exclaims, stepping onto the porch. Her skirt swoops prettily around her, curls glinting gold in the light.

Gilbert smiles politely, if not a little awkwardly. “Bash and I arrived a few days ago. Mary wanted us back as soon as possible, since the baby is due soon. I’m sorry I missed the party, but I wanted to make sure I brought your gift by.” 

Ruby blushes, twirling the rose between her fingers. “A gift? Why, Gil, how thoughtful.”

“Yes, _Gil,_ ” Anne interjects, unable to help herself, amused at the uncomfortable look appearing on his face. “How _supremely_ thoughtful.”

He glances at her pointedly, clearing his throat. Ruby glares. 

“Yes, well, It’s from Mary. She has better taste than I do,” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. I was just about to walk Anne back to Green Gables on my way home—”

“No!” Ruby interrupts, flushing. She crosses to him, placing a hand gingerly against his arm. “I just — was hoping you’d stay. I picked a flower for you.”

She raises the flower, offering it up between them. Around her, the girls all watch with rapt attention.

Gilbert smiles, apologetically, unaware of the tension underlying the moment. “Thank you, Ruby — that’s very kind. But I’m afraid I’m no good at keeping track of things. I’m sure I’d lose it on the way home. Why don’t you put it in a vase, instead?”

Ruby looks down, crestfallen. “Please, Gil? It would mean so much to me.”

Gilbert hesitates, and Anne is utterly helpless to stop it, so she does the next best thing — she turns away, descending the porch steps before she can watch anymore of Ruby’s scheme unfold.

She makes it halfway across the yard before Gilbert’s beside her, catching her arm. She looks up at him, startled. 

“Let me walk you home, Anne.” He says, low, before looking back towards Ruby. “Sorry, Ruby, but I promised Marilla I wouldn’t let Anne walk home unchaperoned! Avonlea is awfully dangerous at night, you know. Another time, perhaps!” And he waves with a grin, steering Anne back around and setting off, as if in a great hurry. Anne looks back over her shoulder, at the girls all clustered on the porch, Ruby glaring daggers at them as they leave. She groans inwardly.

“That was quite rude of you.” She admonishes him, once they’re a good distance away. Still, she’s relieved — and oddly pleased — that Ruby wasn’t able to finish the silly spell.

Gilbert shrugs, at ease as they head onto the wooded path to Green Gables, the trees folding around them, tall and otherworldly in the shadows. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“Both of those statements were a flat-out lie, Gilbert Blythe.”

“Oh, were they? Must be a habit from my days as a lowly sailor.”

“No, no,” Anne says wryly. “I believe those particular aspects of your character were ingrained into you _long_ before that.”

“Anne,” Gilbert says, slowly, “I’m not _completely_ oblivious. I let her down as gently as I could.”

“Oh.” Anne says, startled, her steps faltering. It’s quiet for a few moments as they walk, beneath the canopy of branches and moonlight, the forest a midnight wonderland all around. Anne breathes deeply, taking in the fragrant scent of the lilacs and honeysuckle growing along the path. She stoops down beside them, touching their soft petals. Gilbert pauses, and leans down beside her, carefully plucking a wild lilac and looking at it thoughtfully. 

Anne laughs, standing again and continuing on. “Now you want a flower, Mr. Blythe?” Anne teases over her shoulder. Gilbert shrugs, pocketing the little flower before following her. 

They walk in comfortable silence for another moment. She glances up at him, again, strolling casually beside her.

“So you must have experience with this sort of thing, then.” Gilbert’s eyes fly to hers, wide with surprise.

“You know,” She presses on, embarrassed. “to recognize the signs so easily. I know there are _lots_ of opportunities for that sort of thing, outside of little old Avonlea.”

God, what was she _saying?_

Gilbert laughs, shaking his head. “No, Anne. I don’t. But Ruby has had a crush on me for years, and that kind of thing is something you notice.” He pauses, looking away. Is that a blush Anne sees? It’s hard to tell in the moonlight. “I mean, at least _most_ people notice.”

“Well I certainly would.” Anne states matter-of-factly. Gilbert shoots her a wry look. “If anyoneever felt about _me_ the way Ruby feels about you—” Anne stops, blushing fiercely. Gilbert’s watching her, eyes soft and strange, a smile tugging at his lips. She doesn’t like the peculiar feeling it gives her, so she barrels on. 

“Never mind that. I am doomed for spinsterhood, as Mrs. Lynde so often reminds me. It is my lot in life, though it isn’t _all_ bad, even for someone as romantical as me—”

“Anne,” Gilbert says, soft and low, his long fingers looping around her wrist, catching her. She stops, a torrent of shivers erupting beneath her skin, his eyes dark and too-intense, and then he places something into her palm, his fingers on her own, drawing up, over her wrist and up her arm, trailing a path that leaves Anne breathless and immobile as he draws closer. 

His nose brushing hers. His breath fans across her face, eyes searching hers. She looks up at him, wide eyed, his hand on her elbow, her chest pounding a frantic rhythm against his.

 _“Carrots,”_ and then his lips find hers and the world ceases to exist. He kisses her intently, drinking her in, his lips moving agonizingly slowly against hers. Anne is lost, totally and completely, as she melts against him. His arm comes up to encircle her waist, chin nudging against hers, deepening the kiss until she’s nothing but a shivery mess. Her whole body is alive with electricity, her hands against his chest, fingers tingling around the soft petals clutched in her hand.

A violet, that’s what it was. He had given her the violet he had pocketed earlier — and she was so _glad_ Ruby hadn’t finished the spell, hadn’t said the words Anne had said to Diana —

Anne freezes, horror flooding her mind. _She_ had said the words, hadn’t she? And he gave her a lilac, just after she lamented her spinster fate, and — oh, she had wanted someone to fall in love with her, hadn’t she? And Gilbert — this wasn’t like him at _all,_ was it? He wasn’t...

_Oh god, what has she done?_

Anne wrenches herself away from him, gasping. He watches her, chest heaving, eyes glazed and yet wary.

“Anne, wait-”

She runs, even as he calls out for her, straight into the darkness.


	2. Two / Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! So sorry for the delay! I'm currently working on an original novel that takes up a lot of my time, but I really love this story and I'm still planning on finishing it! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for the lovely comments! I didn't think this would get much attention, so I am absolutely thrilled by the response! 
> 
> This is part one of chapter two. I'm uploading it this way because this chapter is long, and there is so, so, so much dialogue. This was the best place to cut it. Part Two will be up as soon as I finish it, hopefully in the next couple of days. :) Thank you all again, and I hope you enjoy it!

 

 

Anne kneels at the window, watching the dawn rise over the golden fields. She looks up at the snow queen, with her leaves turning a waxy red, shifting and fluttering in the cold autumn winds. 

A week ago it had been summer, and she had been dripping with plump red cherries and verdant green leaves. Already, the cherries had fallen away. Anne rests her chin on her hand, leaning against the windowsill. She felt a kind of kinship with the snow queen, standing alone by her window. How quickly things could change.

The watery image of her reflection is clear in the glass, watching her sorrowfully as she finishes buttoning her dress, putting her hair into a braid over her shoulder. The scent of cinnamon rises from the kitchen below, the clatter of the kettle being put on the stove. She pauses, looking at herself, both familiar and wholly new, face pale and eyes wide. She touches her lips, gently — feeling the soft strangeness of them now.

She had been _kissed_. It was something she had never expected to experience for herself in all her life— and yet longed for, all the same. She had read about it, of course, in her novels — written about it, too, countless times. She hadn’t got it quite right. None of them had.

_Still_ , she thinks, looking away from her ghostlike reflection; _it makes a dreadful kind of sense._ How horribly ironic, that her first and only kiss would come from a cursed Gilbert Blythe.

She leaves her room. Closes the door behind her with a soft click, resolving, as she had every morning, to lock that part of her heart away in it, and all the memories, too. She’d have to face them again tonight, when she would lay in her bed and _think_ about it, like she had every night since _it_ happened, and feel it all anew — welling within her until she felt she was drowning in it.

Marilla is at the basin, when she enters, a basket of apples at her elbow, a knife in her hand. Anne watches her peel the red skin off of one in a long, curling strip.

Marilla looks at her, after a moment, surprise flitting over her features. 

“You’re up early, Anne.” She says, appraising her. “Good. I’ll need every bit of help I can get from you today, if we’re going to finish these pies in time.” 

She points to a bowl, covered by a cloth and resting near the window. “You can start by kneading the dough. After that,” she sighs heavily, peeling another long strip. “I’ll need another batch.”

Anne sighs a little, retrieving her apron from the hook by the door. The worn gingham is soft under her fingers, soft as a moonlit petal —

She shakes herself, setting to work on the dough with a single-minded intensity. Outside, rain begins to fall, pattering against the window. 

She’d been successful in avoiding Gilbert the past week, busying herself with the chores that consumed everyone’s days, now that harvest time had come around again. It had been all too easy to pretend nothing was amiss, especially since Gilbert had stayed far, far away, busy with his own farm and his own life — 

He surely regrets it, Anne thinks, kneading the dough in front of her with flour dusted fingers. If he had regained any sense at all. He was probably embarrassed, avoiding her just as much as she was him, aghast at himself for even deigning to swoop so low as to —

Anne whacks the lump of dough, twice, her cheeks hot. If Matthew and Marilla found out about their total breach of propriety, they’d be _ashamed_ , and disappointed. She couldn’t even think about it. 

“Well!” Mrs. Lynde cries, throwing open the kitchen door, shocking Anne straight out of her stupor and causing Marilla to drop the pan of scones she was carrying onto the table with a clatter. She shuts her umbrella with a _snap_ , sprinkling rainwater all over the floor as she does. 

“I have _never_ seen so much rain, and I have _never_ seen your kitchen in such a _state,_ Marilla!” She clucks her tongue, striding to the table and plucking up a cherry tart for inspection. “I see you need my help a _great_ deal more today than I thought.”

Marilla, quite used to the dramatic display occurring before her, only sighs. “I can assure you, Rachel, Anne and I have it well in hand.”

“Far be it from me to judge, Marilla. I am merely pointing out that your table is _covered_ in flour. It’s getting on the tarts.”

“That may be the case, Rachel, but we have a lot of baking to do, if we are to have any hope of contributing enough for the auction.”

Anne groans inwardly at the mention of it. Tonight would be yet another Avonlea gathering; An autumn dance at the town hall, celebrating the Harvest, and a special fundraiser for their class production of _Twelfth Night_. All of the girls had been giddy about it all summer long, but none more than Anne. Now, though, Anne wished desperately that she could stay home and avoid the entire thing altogether— avoid _him_. A swell of anger rises within her. She doesn’t quite understand it — by all means, it doesn’t make _sense —_ but just the thought of Gilbert’s face causes her irritation to flicker and spark. After all, it couldn’t _all_ be her fault — if he had just kept his hands to himself…!

“Of course, of course. The auction is precisely the reason I’m here. I only pray that Avonlea will be able to regain their strength in time for it, after the Gillis’ girls _lavish_ and _costly_ celebration only _days_ ago!”

“I’m sure they will. As it is, I don’t care to concern myself with other people’s financial matters.” Marilla turns to Anne, raising a brow. “I hope tonight you won’t stay out quite as late as you did then, Anne. It’s improper for a girl your age to be out so late after dark.”

“Well I _would_ have been home muchearlier, Marilla,” Anne mutters darkly, “if _Gilbert Blythe_ hadn’t _insisted_ on walking me home when I very well could have gone _myself!”_

Silence follows her outburst. The kettle whistles and she twists away to tend to it, and hide her flaming face. 

“Why, Marilla,” Mrs. Lynde begins, tone severe. “It is _one_ thing to let her roam the world like a wild beast, but _this_ is quite another thing entirely!” 

She draws herself up, righteous fury alight in her eyes. “Anne Shirley, young ladies _cannot_ just be waltzing around unchaperoned, especially _not_ with young men!”

Jerry appears at the open door, Matthew behind him, looking in on them warily before turning around and heading back the way they came just as quickly. Anne groans, pressing a hand to her forehead. Marilla brings the teacups out, setting them on the table for Anne to fill. Cream and sugar quickly joins them.

“ _Believe me_ , Mrs. Lynde, there is nothing going on between me and _Gilbert Blythe_ , and there never will be. It’s — it’s preposterous to even suggest it!” Anne looks to Marilla, who is stirring her tea and avoiding their eyes, standing by the window. “And anyway, don’t you find that it’s _better_ to be alone, sometimes, if you have the choice?”

“That’s _exactly_ the kind of _impudent_ thinking that gets a girl into trouble!” Mrs. Lynde cries. “Anne, you are _not_ a child anymore, and though you may be plain, you must still guard yourself against these kinds of _wicked—_ ” 

“Rachel!” Marilla snaps, setting her cup down with a clatter. “For heaven’s sake, you’re being much too hard on the girl. You’re right, Anne is not a child anymore. She can handle the _small_ measure of freedom she has in Avonlea. Goodness, Rachel, we should be _thankful_ that the Blythe boy was gentlemanly enough to escort Anne home so late at night!”

Anne looks away, shame filling her, cold and miserable. She sinks into her chair, giving Marilla a painful smile.

“Thank you, Marilla.” Anne says faintly, looking down at her tea. “Anyway, you won’t have to worry about me tonight, either of you. I won’t be attending.”

The two women glance at each other, puzzled, before looking at her.

“You’re telling me Anne Shirley-Cuthbertdoesn’t _feel_ like going to a _dance_?” Marilla questions, a bit dryly.

Anne sighs, cupping her cold hands around her warm teacup. “I’m just not sure if I should, Marilla. I’m coming down with a cough.” She coughs, twice, for good measure.

Marilla wipes her hands on her apron, disbelief clear on her face. “Tell me, Anne, when has that ever prevented you from attending one before?”

Anne groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please, Marilla? I _can’t_ go. It - it wouldn’t be right.”

“Now, Anne. You know I disapprove of dances and- and frivolity. But in this matter, you simply _must_ go. You’ve been looking forward to this all summer. You helped _plan_ this event, to fund your — stage productions. It wouldn’t be decent to back out now, not after all that hard work.”

“Marilla’s perfectly right, at least in _this_ matter,” Mrs. Lynde agrees. “You must not shirk from your duties, and you _must_ make an appearance, Anne, or there will be gossip for weeks to come.”

_Not if you don’t open your mouth_ , Anne thinks miserably, and then scolds herself. Mrs. Lynde may be well known for her loose tongue and passion for all kinds of secrets, but _Anne_ was the one with the secret now.

And tonight — for better or for worse — she’d have to face it.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> More to come soon (ᵔᴥᵔ)


End file.
